Forgive
by roblobliotic
Summary: "So stay, Cas. Stay so I can forgive you." It's the first attempt I've made at fanfiction, and it takes place in a season I haven't even seen yet. Life is weird, man. But hey, what have you got to lose? There aren't that many season eight fanfictions that aren't sad, but this is one. Just give it a try. Fanfiction is weird anyway.


_"Hey, no offence, Cas, but none of that's gonna mean anything at all. If you want Dean to forgive you, maybe you should try staying. For once."_

Castiel sat on a bed. It was an okay bed, a nice bed. It wasn't creaky, and the bedsheets smelled fresh, unlike the ones back at the shabby motels his friends used to frequent. Instead, the room emanated the feeling of safe. Of a home. An unfamiliar, yet unmistakable feeling.

He pondered; thoroughly so, at the words of the younger Winchester. Despite having a more advanced understanding of humans than when he originally came in contact with them, there were undoubtedly a thousand things he had yet to grasp. He knew emotion; the vast majority of it, at least. He'd felt emotion. He knew its toll, to a degree. He understood friendship, bonds, and love. A little more than you could figure out from reading about them, much to his pride. He still felt somewhat disconnected to understanding the finer points of them; but that was a problem for another day, he'd always thought.

How inconvenient that the day for that problem would have come in this way. Inconvenient, but appropriate. After all, saving the friendship with the human who released all these feelings in the first place, it was almost sensical. It seemed the parts he had yet to understand, were the most vital at this point. It was frustrating having to fill in the gaps without any tips. Sam had hinted, quite vigorously, that Dean would be more willing to accept apology, if the apology was accompanied- not with pie, nor porn, but with Castiel remaining with him. Castiel was willing, more than willing, to stay with Dean. In fact, much of his time he wasn't with him, he wanted to be. It was becoming a constant desire.

The problem was not lying within that, but rather more confusing emotions causing him to fret. He didn't know how to make the hunter listen, how to accept the apology, how to even bring up the right conversation topic to bring it towards this proposition. He wasn't even positive it would work, or if Dean would be alarmed and request him to stay away. He was also having a difficult time understanding why it mattered that he stayed. He never had before, and it didn't seem like a problem then. If Dean disliked him leaving, wouldn't he have spoken up beforehand?

It was funny... not humorous, just funny. Dean was important. Words that accurately described his friend seemed to escape him, leaving few behind. He just knew one; important. He figured that's because it was all of the smaller, less generous words were covered in nine letters that way. He was bold, and brave, righteous, even. It was funny because Castiel could feel emotions, he could feel desire and want and love, and all of the beautiful words he could use to explain how he felt were dim in comparison to the bright, radiating feeling he felt when Dean was peaceful. He knew emotions, he knew the feeling of need. And he needed Dean. He needed Dean to trust him again. He needed it, but he wasn't sure what it was or what it might come hand in hand with.

So yes, Castiel was sitting, waiting patiently for Dean to come back. He'd gone out to replenish supplies, and Castiel decided to wait on his bed. Sam knew his whereabouts; said he'd send Dean in when he arrived. Sam was eager, for some reason. Something about the tension. He was awakened by his thoughts by the subtle click of a door closing. Looking up, he was met with an eyeful of Dean, shifting awkwardly, foot to foot by the door, He cleared his throat, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel croaked. His voice, rugged and gravelly. Alluring, in all the strangest ways. The hunter looked anywhere but Castiel's eyes. The floor, the ceiling, his shoes. His shoes were intensely interesting.

"...Well? What is it? Sammy said you wanted to talk, now talk." Dean finally met his friend's eyes, holding a steady gaze.

Castiel nodded. "Sam told me... a thing. I wanted to confirm it."

"A thing?" Dean's left eyebrow raised slightly higher than the right. Castiel noticed that. He noticed many things. "What thing?"

"Sam has advised me that you might prefer if I stayed."

Dean's heart missed a beat, or at least he thought it had, because his head suddenly throbbed. He felt either good or bad news in the air. Perhaps both. "...and? What do you need to confirm?"

"I wasn't sure. Sam seemed insistent that all my apologies, all efforts, were rendered null if I didn't stay. I suppose the purpose of this was to ask you. Dean, do you want me to stay?"

Dean's palms were uncharacteristically sweaty. He didn't get nervous, he wasn't going to chick-flick moment, he wasn't going to say something weird or girly and make himself look clingy or needy. Or maybe he was, and he was okay with that. "Can you?"

Castiel's head cocked, like a confused child, or a pet observing its owner. "With permission." Castiel replied.

"Whose?" Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of course, there was a catch, there was a condition, even after everything the son of a bitch had said and done. Apologies followed by tradgedies and betrayals, that's all Cas could provide him with now. Yet he still wanted Cas to stay, and he knew that, and he knew he needed Cas. He needed him because he was one of the last things he had to hold onto. And he cared, damn it. He fucking cared.

"Yours, Dean." Castiel's eyes looked tired, but full of hope. A look he'd come to know well. "I have done many wrong things, for reasons I believed to be right at the time. If it were a choice that I could make, I would stay, and I would apologise every day until one day it meant something to you. I'll only stay if that's what you want me to do."

"Cas-"

"I just... I need you, too, Dean. Probably more than you need me."

Castiel felt naked; exposed. He felt as if he'd somehow managed to disintegrate his clothing when he dropped the weight off of his shoulders. He was glad, though, he was relieved. He had somehow explained (in fewer words than he originally thought would be necessary, which was a bonus) that he needed Dean. It felt so much better. Emotions were tiresome, but expressing them was a perk.

"Cas." Dean spoke up. Castiel's eyes were on his, shining, green, even a little mesmerizing. "Did you _really_ need Sam to tell you that I wanted you to stay? Just what do you _think_ you are to me, Cas? Just an angel? A weapon? Did you actually think we just- I don't know, kept you around for convenience? We care about you, Cas. You got that? I care. So yeah, I need you to stay. 'Cause I need you, Cas. I always will."

A short silence- and I mean really short, like twenty seconds, tops- passed, before Dean spoke again.

"So stay, Cas. Stay so I can forgive you."

Castiel felt joy. It was hopeless- the enviroment around him, the days on earth were getting more complicated, but even so, he felt joy. He almost felt guilty. It was going to be hard, from now on. It would be hard, maybe even harder than it had ever been. But it was okay, it was all somewhat minimized by this. By this... absurdly strong feeling of being needed. It was amazing, and confusing, and thoughts were whirling around in his head so fast he felt dizzy. He felt himself smiling, and he wasn't sure why, he wasn't sure how to hold it back, it just slipped through the cracks.

He needed Dean, and Dean needed him, too. If disaster and chaos should meet them; maybe this time, they could stand together.


End file.
